


Responsibility Comes In Different Shapes and Sizes

by My_Alter_Ego



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Road Trips, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26596786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Alter_Ego/pseuds/My_Alter_Ego
Summary: Neal gets hijacked for the weekend.
Relationships: Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke, Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Comments: 2
Kudos: 58





	Responsibility Comes In Different Shapes and Sizes

Neal found himself in Peter’s office enduring a stern lecture. “This coming Friday is the beginning of a long 4th of July weekend. El and I have decided to take advantage of the three days away from our jobs to go Upstate to visit my parents. It’s been awhile since we’ve all gotten together, and they’re not getting any younger.”

“Sounds like a nice thing for a thoughtful son to do,” Neal answered with a smile.

“Yeah, well that presents a little problem,” Peter intoned somberly. “I’m not sure I can trust you to stay out of trouble and not pull some boneheaded stunt while I’m away.”

“Peter, you wound me,” Neal said dramatically with his hand over his heart. “I was the epitome of a law abiding citizen when you left town to take Elizabeth to Belize. And that was at the very beginning of our partnership.”

“Yeah, it was,” Peter agreed, “well before I realized that your little bald cohort in crime had breezed into New York. That puts a whole new slant on things.”

“What if I give you my solemn promise?” Neal said hopefully.

“A promise of what, exactly?” Peter replied sarcastically. “And can I even believe that you and Mozzie won’t try any of your shenanigans that keep giving me gray hair?”

“So, what’s the alternative?” Neal asked with a bit of trepidation, picturing a holding cell at the FBI.

There was a glint in Peter’s eye when he answered, “I’m taking my albatross along for the ride. You’re gonna come with us, Buddy, so that I can keep you out of trouble!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Neal had to admit that he was curious to see the gene pool that had spawned a formidable FBI Agent. He thought he remembered Peter once remarking that his retired father had been a bricklayer during his earning days. Neal wasn’t sure about Peter’s mother, but, apparently, he was now going to find out about her, too. The senior couple were waiting on a wide front veranda with an actual porch swing, eager to spot Peter’s car coming down the long driveway. There was the quick round of affectionate hugs and cheek kisses with their son and his wife before the pair turned to Neal, who was feeling sort of like a fifth wheel.

“You must be Peter’s new project,” the old man said cheerfully as he held out his hand.

“I suppose that’s one way of putting it,” Neal grinned, really not sure of his status at this point.

Next, Neal was subjected to Mrs. Burke’s scrutiny. “My goodness, young man, you’re much too thin! Are you eating enough?” Peter’s Mom blithely added her opinion, as only a doting mother hen would.

“Yes, Ma’am, I am,” Neal responded awkwardly.

“Well, I intend to make sure that you do eat right this weekend. Nobody leaves my home hungry,” the determined woman said decisively.

Peter’s father leaned over to Neal and whispered, “After almost fifty years, I’ve found it’s best not to argue with her. It’s much easier just to go along in order to get along.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Sir,” Neal mumbled, thinking that advice might work with his suspicious, distrustful handler, as well.

Lunch at the Burke homestead was a table groaning with a generous platter of fried chicken, overflowing bowls of homemade potato salad and coleslaw, an earthenware crock of baked beans, and steamed ears of fresh corn stacked up in a pyramid. Mrs. Burke wouldn’t allow anyone up from the table until they enjoyed her dessert of peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream. Neal lumbered to his feet after the gargantuan meal and began collecting plates and cups to help in the cleanup, but Peter’s Dad took him by the elbow and pulled him away.

“Let them try to do their thing,” he said referring to Peter and Elizabeth. “It’s not gonna take long before they get shooed out of the kitchen. My wife insists on loading her dishwasher a certain way, and, apparently, she’s the only one who knows how that is. I threw in the towel a long time ago. C’mon, young man, let me show you my man cave.”

The old guy’s man cave was actually a workshop housed in a free-standing garage set away from the house. Neal gazed around him at a long workbench fashioned from an old picnic table, and there were a multitude of hand tools hanging on peg board walls. Circular saws, routers, and drill presses dotted the periphery, and there were little piles of sawdust on the floor and the smell of fresh-cut lumber in the air.

“This is what I’m working on; it’s my latest invention,” Burke senior said proudly as he pointed to some sort of contraption in the middle of the worktable. Neal scrutinized a rather cumbersome machine with a small motor attached. An enormous aluminum pot lid was a backdrop for an old phonograph turntable tilted at an angle. When Neal’s host turned the apparatus on, a series of lights starting flashing from another little box attached atop the rotating surface. The illumination seemed to bounce off the silver pot lid and make mirror sparkles dance on the walls.

“What does this thing do? Is it some sort of kaleidoscope?” Neal asked curiously.

Mr. Burke grinned proudly. “This little baby is actually throwing out high frequency sound waves, too high for the human ear to hear. But other critters hear them and it keeps them away. I haven’t had a fly, a mosquito, a spider, or even a mouse enter into my space since I’ve been using it.”

“Very ingenious,” Neal tried to sound impressed.

The old man crossed his arms over his chest and scrutinized his guest. “I suppose this is silly stuff to someone like you,” he challenged. “Peter has told us you’re a man of the world and quite brilliant. I guess what you see up here in the boondocks are two old fogies—a retired and bored tinkerer and a chubby matron who equates food with love.”

Neal’s expression turned serious. “What I see, Sir, is a comfortably joined couple who love one another now just as they probably have for half a century.”

That seemed to mollify Mr. Burke, so Neal ventured a hesitant question. “Did Peter really say I was brilliant?”

That caused the old guy to laugh. “Peter also says you’re a pain in his ass, but my straight-laced and cynical son always was a bit on the ‘glass half-empty’ side of the equation. I would wager that you’re managing to upset the applecart and keep him on his toes. Now the trick is to loosen him up a bit. He takes responsibility so seriously that I don’t think he gets enough enjoyment out of life.”

“Well, Sir, I’ll certainly try,” Neal grinned.

“One can only hope,” Peter’s father sighed. “Now, let me finish the tour.” He then pulled Neal behind an accordion vinyl door to a comfortable niche that had previously been hidden from view. There was a small shabby couch and a tattered old corduroy recliner placed at an angle to view an ancient bulky console television set with rabbit ears.

“It has become my habit after one of my wife’s heavy lunches to retire to my den where I take my afternoon nap. Are you feeling sleepy after chowing down at that smorgasbord?”

“Perhaps a bit lethargic,” Neal admitted. “I’m assuming the recliner is your throne, so can I stretch out on the sofa?”

“Be my guest,” the old man chuckled.

And so that was exactly where Peter found his father and his young paroled felon a few hours later. Both were sound asleep as a strange gismo rotated round and round. Peter stared at the two men with a fond smile on his face. They were both his responsibility in different ways, and, although he’d never admit it out loud, he wouldn’t want it any other way. 


End file.
